


running after my fate

by the_watchflower



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Before The Storm, Dark Room, F/M, Guilt-trip, Memory Loss, Spoilers, drugs and alcohol, kinda prequel, nathan centric, nathan in lust with rachel, shortly before disappearing of rachel, this will get sad, victoria's jealous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 22:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11217240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_watchflower/pseuds/the_watchflower
Summary: Good news is that you're not dead yet.Bad news is that you should be.Something's off.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, yeah, I was in the middle of writing a second chapter when the 20min gameplay of Before the Storm got out, so I guess my vision of Rachel is gonna be a bit different from the "canon." Then again, we all did have our own vision of her, didn't we?
> 
> It's a multichapter, so bear with me there haha   
> It begins when Nathan and Rachel first met and ends shorty after her disappearing and Nathan trying to figure it out.
> 
> It's my first time trying out this form of narrative, so any tips/advice you might have, throw them straight at me! Please.  
> Enjoy!

> _"So you wanna mess with me?_  
>  _Caught me in a silent scream_  
>  _Heat filling up my cheeks_  
>  _Not exactly what you think"_
> 
> _\- The Silversun Pickups_

 

 

 

Thursday.

 

_**"Ugh! The fuck you switching on that light for right now? You tryin to blind me?"** _

 

You roll your eyes as some first-grader is making up a sloppy excuse, probably praying internally that you won't beat his ass later or at least won't cut off his weekly weed supply. Tough luck. Staying till late in the school's swimming pool isn't exactly your idea of fun in the evenings. There are much more productive things to do, like getting laid or stoned to the Pulp Fiction.

There's certainly no force on earth being able to make you come check up on some stupid preps for the party, unless it's wearing gucci heels, has a blond hair pixie cut and exhales dramatically before making a dismissive comment. Snarky, sassy and, of course, your favourite flavour – Victoria Chase in all her rich kid glory.

And here she is, her heels already making the ticking sound of annoyment when some short girl – but hey she's got nice legs – trips over with a box of decorations. You'd rather stay out of this one.

But why'd you even need to be here? It's not like the Vortex Club parties weren't already the best and needed your blessing before. Still, you best friend insists that this one in particular – "Dies Irae" – as she has already named it, is perfect beyond imagination. And you, as the second most important club member need to help her.

Even if all you do is loiter around, kicking stuff or people.

 

Good news is that Victoria promised you a late night dinner at Two Whales after you're done.

Bad news is that you just remembered Joyce is closing earlier today.

 

Fuck her. Both.

 

As you've learned from your various ups and downs in life, every situation comes down to this one equation. The good news and the bad news. The black and white. In the end, they always somehow mend together creating all shades of grey, just like in your photography. You like to capture that moment, because the fragility and unsureness of life finally surfaces and without a warning shot, makes you question all the borders and definitions you've made up in your little head. It's not pleasureable, but exciting nonetheless. And if you put it in that fancy poetical way, people might even buy this shit. But they would anyway, cause you're fucking good at your work.

 

Just as you let out an exaggerated yawn, the blue jay comes crashing into the closed window, leaving a small trail of fresh blood on its surface. Bird's body falls down with a loud thud and you feel the sudden urge to get out of here and take some sweet shots. Can already imagine how you would exploit its lifelessness and awe of horror. But aww shit, you don't walk around with your camera like a freak, do you? However, the temptation is too strong and you pull out your phone and rush outside anyway. Resolution will not be that great but these photos will make enough reference shots for future work. You smile at how precautious you are. Someone should better appreciate that in the future, and by someone you mean a certain photography teacher. He's the only one in this shithole that sees your true value. Jefferson says you've got a talent and he can help you make the best of it, offers you a welcoming home and a reasurring pat on the back. That's more than your father ever gave you. Whatever, it's his loss when you will be admired by everyone in the world. He'll feel stupid then, not you. You'll prove him wrong. You'll prove all of them wrong...

 

The blue jay lays with its wings broken, but spread, as if it was still in motion. This view is pretty pathetic. You sigh, and leave it as it is.

 

When you come back, Victoria's immedietly tugging at your arm, pulling you to the big red banter with words "ALL SINS ARE REBUKED TODAY, SO SIN FREELY". With the sideeye you see she's waiting eagerly for your reply. She's so sinister and creepy sometimes, you let out a big laugh.

 _ **"And here I thought I'd find myself some angel at the party."**_ You say putting an arm around her.

_**"Devil was an angel too, when you think bout it."** _

_**"Would you like to sin with me now, Vickdevil?**_ " You say with a smirk and a hand on her hip.

She pouts. _**"Just because I wear Prada, doesn't mean I'm devil asshole."**_

_**"You're no angel too, sweety"** _

_**"Fair enough."** _

 

One hour later and it seems like all work here is done. Finally. You feel exhausted and your head hurts, but don't know why. Guess it's time for a few joints. You offer one to Vic, as you step outside. She takes a few deeps at once. That greedy bitch.

Few puffs later and your head keeps on hurting, weed's not helping at all. Vic's still talking bout that stupid party but you hear a ringing in your ear instead. That's too much to take. The sudden anger fills you up from head to toes and it feels like 30 degrees altough it's a chilly evening. Something explodes inside you. You tell her that she fucking set you up with that dinner at Two Whales and you can't quite make it out of her reaction, whether she's truly surprised or just messing with you since the beginning. It feels wrong, you spoke with a strange voice, husky and breathless, as if there was a hand trying to strangle you. She looks puzzled too and offers you pizza instead, but you just tell her to fuck off and stop trying to buy you with food and treats. You're not a fucking dog, you don't need a master. You just storm off to your dorm, throwing the splif on the pavement. She doesn't say anything and doesn't follow you.

 

Back in your room, you get a text saying " _You better now? Take your meds and I'll come with dvd later._ " Shame falls all over you and you shake it off by turning on the radio.

 

Good news is that you've got a friend who can still put up with your mental instability.

Bad news is that you can't do it yourself.

 

You turn the Whale Songs to maximum volume tonight.

 


	2. Chapter 2

> _"but if you open your mouth then i_   
>  _cant be responsible for quite what goes in or_   
>  _to care what comes out, so just pull on your hair_   
>  _just pull on your pout and let's move to the beat_   
>  _like we know that it's over"_
> 
> _\- The Cure_

 

Friday.

 

Woob. Woob. Woob.

You couldn't make out the lyrics even if you tried.

You stay on wobbly knees and your eyes are half closed. But still, you can see everything clearly. Well, maybe not that bottle of champagne you just cracked with your leg. Whatever, there's always another one. Shortage of alcohol is impossible on Vortex Club parties, it's fucking everywhere. In the pool, on the table, even in the damn toilette. You wipe your mouth with your jacket, after you let out an unfashionable blurp. It's gone in the sound of the bass anyway.

 

This place's so crowded that moving around is hard. No surprise, it's the same mass each party, filling up the empty space in their chests, disappointing their parents. Drinking, cheating, fucking – sinning in every way just because they can. And it feels fucking good, you know it yourself. Seeing some punks dance, you wonder if you really are seeing the devils.

 

You look around, trying to locate Victoria. She'd make a good mocking partner right now.You can't see her, so slightly dissapointed you look for her minions instead. One leads to another. VIP area, dj booth. None found. Damn, it seems you'll have to gobble that Jack Daniels all by yourself. Nothing you can't handle Nate, chill. Time to boost yourself a bit before crushing the dancefloor. As you take the first sip, you notice her.

 

The constantly colour changing strobelight illuminates her face, creating a somewhat halo around her head. The upturned nose between the hazel eyes, piercing you with a hypnotising glare. She's looking at you as if you were her prey, batting her eyelashes like she's trying to make a tornado. Something blue wringles by her ear, but she shakes her head to the rhytm and blond hair cover it again. Her body smoothly moves to violent beats and totally ignores the boy trying to holler at her. The best parts of her body are jumping, altough they look so perfectly sculptured. She turns her gaze to you again, silently mouths something illegible and with an open hand invites you to dance. You already know you'll invite her to take a chance with you. You get up from the sofa, feeling abrubtly the rush of blood to your head. The hall's shaking but you keep your eyes focused on her. You blink once. Looking at her, you feel enlightened. You blink twice. You just found your naughty angel. You make your way through the crowd, banging your head to the song with confidence and a grin.

 

Good news is that you're the fucking god of the Vortex Club and nothing can oppose you.

Bad news is that she doesn't seem to care.

 

You move closer to her, pretending to be a little shy at first. Just swaying your body right and left, pumping you fist in the air when the chorus comes on.You lock your eyes with hers from the begining and keep a short distance untill she takes your hands and guides one to her back. You try to put it lower, but she scoffs at you so you agree on her terms. For now. She's almost your height so you can feel her hot breath on your neck when you close the gap between you. Some lameass song goes next and you want to curse the dj for killing the moment, but you catch her softly humming and singing the lyrics. You roll your eyes, but soon become captivated by her voice and lose yourself in it. There's some strangely familiar nostalgia in her tone, like you've already been there before. You turn to face her, but she's not even looking at you. Just her eyes closed. Shit, she might even forgot you're being there, but she busts that theory by squeezing your hand. She's so beautiful, she's already trapped you in her grasp. Just when her eyes slowly open, the beat drops hard and the record changes. Forget before, that motherfucker really knows how to kill the mood. You can't help but growl.

 

 _ **"What's that? Can't handle the dj's mood swings?"**_ her voice is different from then. So edgy, so spikey, capitalizing every letter in a challenging tone.

 _ **"Not as good as I could handle yours."**_ she chuckles.

_**"Watch that, pretty boy. You don't know what you ask for."** _

_**"I never bite more than I can chew."** _

_**"We'll see."** _

 

And with that short exchange you come back to dancing, but never lose the touch of each other again. Like the waves coming onto shore, you come closer than retreat. You lose count of how many songs have already passed, because the warmth of her body pressing onto yours is making thinking straight hard. The pressure's rising but none of you breaks the final point. It's up to you, you decide. Presscot always take whatever they want. You dive in for the kiss and your teeth clash. She must have wanted to do the same right now. You smile against the kiss and she welcomes your tongue into her mouth. The embrace is long and unlike many others. You're not counting the seconds passing, you're not already judging her performance. Instead, your head is filled with whales. Two whales swimming in unison against the weak current. You're at peace.

She's the first to break off the kiss. Both of you panting and smiling childlishly. She's biting her lower lip when you comment _**"See, I can handle you."**_ She pretends to be a bit offended but her eyes sprakle. She tells you to meet up in the parking lot in a few minutes as she makes her way to the bathroom. Even after she's gone you stare at the empty spot for a few moments.

 

You feel a pat on your shoulder and turn around to see Victoria with Taylor and Courntey right behind her. Is it alcohol or is it anger twisting her face in such a furious way?

 _ **"What's up, queenie-bee?"**_ you ask innocently. Surely she must have seen you in action.

 _ **"That's up."**_ she says, her eyes directing to your jeans. You feel no shame, that girl was attractive as hell. Wait, is there a bit of jealousness in Victoria's voice?

You just shake your shoulders in resposne.

 _ **"Do you even know who that btich was?"**_ of course you did, you've seen her plenty on the corridors, on the rare occasions when you are at school. You just didn't quite catch her name. _**"It's Rachel Amber and she's trouble."**_

_**"If by trouble you mean hella sexy, then yeah."** _

_**"No, seriously Nate, dont think with your cock once in a while and listen...."**_ And here she goes.

 

Good news is that you learnt how to ignore her endless blaberring.

Bad news is that she notices.

Uh oh.

 

 _ **"What the fuck, Nathan?"**_ she sprouts.

 _ **"What the fuck, Victoria?"**_ you mimic her voice and head movement. _**"It's none of your busines who I hook up with. And now excuse me, cause I'm on my way to getting super laid tonight. You should too, but first take the stick out of your butt."**_

 

It's the second day in a row you leave her wordless. That is, not counting the loud "FUCK YOU" as you go outside. She'll get over it soon. She can't stay mad and jealous forever, right?

 

You see Rachel already waiting for you in the parking lot.

 _ **"Your girl's angry?"**_ It doesn't sound like a question. It should.

_**"She's not my girl. Whatever."** _

She kisses you to cheer you up. Hard to admit, but it kinda works.

 

Now let that naughty angel get you to heaven.

 


End file.
